


The Wounded Party

by skarletfyre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: BLU Spy's Head, Blow Jobs, Consensual, Deepthroating, M/M, Mentions of decapitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had taken it too far. This game, this... flirtation they engaged in. The line had finally been crossed, and the RED Medic was at fault.<br/>The BLU Spy was in a refrigerator. His head, specifically, was in the refrigerator, hooked up to some nightmarish contraption to keep him alive and conscious. He currently had no idea where his body was. If he even had a body anymore. Who knows what the Respawn system was making of his situation at the moment. Alive, but not alive. Alive when he absolutely should not be.</p><p>All because of a kiss."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wounded Party

**Author's Note:**

> based on [weenie's](http://genuineanger.tumblr.com/post/131039817055/cuckfuck69-halloweenie-kun-submitted-u) [wonderful](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/130903830216/halloweenie-kun-submitted-u-thought-son-of-a) [art](http://halloweenie-kun.tumblr.com/post/130700657764/hes-thinkin-thoughts) and an anon suggestion i received on tumblr

He had taken it too far. This game, this... _flirtation_ they engaged in. The line had finally been crossed, and the RED Medic was at fault.

The BLU Spy was in a refrigerator. His head, specifically, was in the refrigerator, hooked up to some nightmarish contraption to keep him alive and conscious. He currently had no idea where his body was. If he even had a body anymore. Who knows what the Respawn system was making of his situation at the moment. Alive, but not alive. Alive when he absolutely should not be.

All because of a kiss.

The RED Medic had been avoiding him for the last three days since the “incident.” Now it seemed the man had finally decided what to do about it.

The Spy tried to turn his head, using the ragged stump of his neck as he normally would, and felt a sharp twinge.

Oh, good. So he could still feel pain. How absolutely wonderful for him.

If the BLU Spy were a better man, he might be able to admit that this was partially his own fault. If he were a better man, he might be able to acknowledge that if not for his actions, he would not have found himself in this predicament in the first place, and that this level of retribution was justly deserved. And, honestly, to be expected from the enemy doctor who took so much pleasure in brutalizing his enemies in the field.

But the BLU Spy was not a better man and never had been. Thus, he was furious.

He looked around with only his eyes, trying to determine where the strange scent of cinnamon was coming from. He could see very little in his peripheral vision, and only the door in front of him. He had no idea what was behind him, or even where in the enemy base he was being kept. Somehow he doubted he was in the kitchens. No, the doctor would store him somewhere that his _indiscretion_ wouldn't be easily discovered. The administration would not tolerate this if they knew, surely.

Something banged outside the refrigerator, distant and muffled by the insulation. A door, perhaps?

The Spy listened as intently as he could over the hum of the icebox, trying to understand the sounds that he couldn't see the source of. There were definitely footsteps. Another, closer thud, and a peculiar rattle. The footsteps again, heavy and rhythmic, drawing closer until they were right outside the door. There was a moment of silence.

The refrigerator door opened.

“ _Connard.”_

The RED Medic blinked down at him, a towering giant of a man from the Spy's vantage point.

“Good to see you are awake.”

“Fuck you,” the Spy spat, trying to wobble on his stump. “You'll be fired for this.”

“Mm.”

The Medic bent down and reached a hand into the fridge. He was not wearing his gloves, which the Spy found interesting. And, an opportunity. The hand drew close to his face, and he lunged as best he could. His teeth snapped together as they grazed the Medic's finger. The doctor hissed and sucked the wounded digit into his mouth. He glared at the satisfied Spy.

“Ouch.”

“Do not play the wounded party here, _Docteur._ The things I will do to you once I get my body back-”

“That is presuming rather a lot.”

“ _-once I get it back,_ I will make you hurt in unimaginable ways. You will never have felt pain like what I will inflict on you. I have tortured men before. To death, and to insanity. I don't believe I will give the choice about which is the kinder fate, after all that you've put me through.”

“ _Tch.”_ The Medic reached for him again, more carefully these time, and the Spy was helpless as a hand cradled the back of his neck, tilting him back so that the other could support the odd device attached to his neck. Presumably what was keeping him alive. The doctor was smirking. “Sweet nothings...”

“Unhand me!” The BLU shouted as he was lifted out of the fridge. It was extremely disorienting to be moved this way, with no control over the speed or direction he traveled. His equilibrium was entirely off. If he had a stomach he would have been very sick.

His demands were met moments later as the Medic set him on what must have been a low table top, positioning him carefully away from the edge and making sure everything remained connected and in place. The Spy tried to bite him again as he did so. It didn't work.

When the RED appeared satisfied with his position he stepped back and straightened up, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. He looked down at the Spy with a single raised eyebrow, as though challenging him to complain. He did.

“How dare you.”

The Medic was unaffected.

“I assume you know what this is about,” he asked, infuriatingly calm in the literal face of Spy's predicament.

“You are a monster,” the Spy answered immediately. “A sick man. How could I begin to know the motivations behind your twisted experiments?”

“Spy.”

“Release me.”

“You assaulted me.”

“I-” The Spy drew up short. “I did not.”

“No?”

The Medic's expression was firm, yet his tone was playful. The BLU saw no anger in the doctor's eyes and his posture, while reproachful, was far too casual to be threatening. He did not intend retribution, then. Interesting, but not comforting. The Spy felt the reflexive urge to swallow. He wondered what would happen if he did.

“I would hardly call it an assault, _Docteur.”_

“What would you call it then?”

“A... kiss.”

“Mm. And the rest of it?”

The Spy was aware what he was referring to. He was, of course, the perpetrator of his own actions. It _was_ more than a kiss. There was too much touching, too much... grinding of hips. He had gotten a little carried away in the moment.

“Frottage.”

The Medic remained stonefaced, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. Of course he was enjoying himself. He had turned his enemy into a science fair project and had an unfair amount of power over the BLU Spy. But if he was only going to torment him with awkward questions, then what was the point of this? Why on earth go through so much trouble?

“What are going to do to me?” the Spy finally snapped when he got tired of being stared at like something on the shelf of a curiosity shop. “What fate am I to suffer at your hands?”

“My intentions were not to cause you suffering, _mein Freund._ Not necessarily. I thought this way we might be able to talk. Since we seem incapable of approaching each other on peaceful terms, this seemed like a compromising solution.”

“ _Beheading_ me is your idea of a compromise?”

“It was easier than tying you to a chair,” the Medic shrugged. “You are less likely to struggle. This way we can have a conversation without all the posturing and fuss.”

“I am not interested in talking to you,” the Spy ground out through clenched teeth. The Medic tilted his head to the side.

“Then what are you interested in doing with me?”

The Spy's eyes widened.

 _Oh._ So _that's_ what they were doing here? This was meant to be flirting. Seduction via decapitation and the violation of the laws of god and man. This was the RED's reinterpretation of inviting him out to coffee.

Only there was no invitation. And the Spy highly doubted that any sort of beverage would be able to do anything for him now.

He wanted to continue being angry. He certainly had the right to be furious in his situation, but his interest was piqued. That was what he wanted all along, was it not? To be in the enemy doctor's intimate company, away from the prying eyes of both their teams. It was a ridiculous attraction, fueled by too many months of isolation from civilized society and too many close encounters that bred familiarity with the man. It would not have gone anywhere, had his interest not be returned. And now look where it had gotten him.

He frowned up at the doctor and took the bait.

“That will require the use of my hands.”

The Medic finally smiled.

When he reached for him again, this time the Spy didn't snap his teeth. He followed the doctor's hand with his eyes, tensing as the man brushed his cheek. A knuckle dragged gently over the high edge of his cheekbone, appreciating his fine bone structure. Medic tapped a finger on the arched bridge of his nose.

“Will it?”

Spy couldn't tell if he was holding his breath or he just hadn't noticed his lack of breathing this entire time. He had no lungs. He had no heart, either, yet he could feel the slight flush rising to his cheeks, feel the ghost the organ pounding against his chest.

This was madness. It was obscene, even the thought of it, he was right in guessing what the RED was after. Part of him was repulsed. The rest of him was intrigued, and very interested to see what the rest of this day had in store.

The Spy dropped his eyes to the front of the doctor's trousers, noting the beginnings of a bulge forming under his fly. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips.

“That sounds temptingly like an idea, _Docteur,”_ he prompted carefully. Letting the other man know he understood, and was game. The Medic's mouth curled into a smirk.

“I've had some thoughts.”

“You are disgusting.”

Spy somehow managed to sound breathy without having any breath. There was no venom in his words. He was too busy staring at the way the doctor's trousers were beginning to tent toward him. He glanced up to see the man unbuttoning his vest, casting it casually aside before starting on the buttons of his shirt. He didn't remove it entirely, to the Spy's disappointment, but left it hanging open to reveal a broad, strong chest and a fairly athletic build for a man of his years. The hair on his chest was dark and peppered with silver. Spy wanted to nuzzle his face into it, and stopped just short of asking the doctor to lift him so he could do so.

He watched the man's fingers make quick work of his belt and the fasten of his trousers. He pushed his pants down the top of his thighs, peeling his underwear with them and freeing his straining erection under the Spy's hungry gaze.

The Medic's cock bobbed in front of his face, thick and close enough to make his eyes cross. There was an enticing trail of dark hair on his stomach, leading down from his navel to the patch of wiry, well groomed bush. The Spy felt a hand on the top of his head and looked up as much as he was able, answering the doctor's unasked question with a blink. He opened his mouth.

The doctor used the hand that wasn't steadying him to push his trousers and underwear out of the way, leaning forward enough to let the Spy's tongue drag along the sensitive underside. The moan the action elicited would have sent shudders down his spine, if he still had one.

It took a few minutes to adjust to the situation and the absurdity of it all. The Medic panted and whined as the Spy lapped carefully at as much of his cock as he could, teasing along veins and below the head with the firm point of his tongue. As much as the RED seemed to be enjoying it, Spy couldn't help but feel that he wasn't able to give it his all. He missed having hands. He wanted to wrap his fingers around the hot length in his mouth and stroke the enemy doctor into a frenzy. He wanted to grip the man's hip and pull him closer, or reach up to tease and tweak at his nipples. There was more to a good blowjob than just a warm mouth, in his humble opinion at the very least.

When he was finally able to close his lips around the head, he got an idea.

“Fuck my mouth,” he said, when next the Medic angled him away. The doctor looked at him in surprise. “It will be good, _Docteur._ I will make it good for you.”

The Medic hesitated for a moment, then swore and took a step back.

The Spy was confused until the RED grabbed his signature white coat from its nearby peg and bunched up into a wrinkled, half folded ball. He lifted the Spy's head carefully and set it back down on the cushion of the coat, leaving him angled slightly upward. He could see the ceiling now, and had to look down to watch the Medic struggle to push his trousers down over his boots. He only got one leg off before giving up.

“Open,” he ordered, filling Spy's field of vision once more as he loomed over him. One hand braced him on the table top. The other held the base of his cock expectantly. Spy opened his mouth once more.

The head hit the back of his throat on the first pass and he gagged.

Well, he _should_ have gagged. He felt the discomfort, the insistent pressure that usually made his stomach lurch. But he had no stomach. The nerves were firing, but they didn't have anything to connect to, even as the Medic's cock filled his mouth well past the point he was usually able to take without a warm up. Perhaps there some advantages to being a disembodied head after all.

The doctor did not take his time, only his pleasure. He hiked a knee onto the table for leverage as he fucked deep into the Spy's throat. His thrusts were fast and hard, taking what was offered as he wanted it. Spy could do nothing but take it and listen to the Medic's pants and groans from above him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the weighty feeling of a thick cock in his mouth and a strong hand holding down the back of his head. It had been too long.

When the Medic's rhythm became more erratic the Spy knew he would be getting close. He put all his effort into sucking and tightening the muscles of his throat, drawing a high, delicious whine from the Medic. That was all it took to bring him over the edge.

“ _Ah- ah, Sheiße!”_

That was all the warning Spy got before the Medic pulled out, a second before he came, his release spurting onto the BLU's cheek and chin, and into his still open and waiting mouth.

A thick strand of saliva hung between his lips the tip of the Medic's cock as the man's finger fisted the material of his mask, using his free hand for balance as he unsteadily straightened up. There was a pretty pink blush high in his cheeks and Spy was very pleased to see the usually immaculate doctor looking so thoroughly wrecked. He had done that using only his mouth. Imagine what he could do to this man with the rest of his body.

The Spy swallowed the come that had managed to land in his mouth, realizing too late how much of a bad idea that probably was. He could feel a speck of it still on his upper lip and tried to reach it with the point of his tongue.

The doctor made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and then he was there with the arm of his coat, using it to clean the extra mess from Spy's face and wipe up what his tongue could not reach. The Spy found himself being lifted again, held so that his face was on level with the doctor's own. The man was smiling again. Spy was surprised when he leaned in, closing his eyes to press their lips together in a slow, sensual kiss. Even without breath, Spy was left breathless again.

“Is that why did you did all this?” the Spy asked when he was pulled away, glancing down at the doctor's still unbuttoned trousers.

“I really did want to talk to you,” the Medic told him and, god, he sounded a mess. A delicious, post-orgasmic mess. “But I would be lying to say that this thought never crossed my mind. What did you think?”

“I think you are a madman, and I am very happy to have met you.”

The Medic laughed again. A rich, rough sound that Spy wanted to remember for ages. He wanted to know what that laugh felt like, vibrating through the chest pressed against his own. He wanted his body back, soon.

“Are you going to kill me now?” he asked after a moment, hoping to get his point across. The sooner he Respawned the sooner he would be able to sneak into the enemy base and possibly have his turn with the doctor.

The RED Medic smiled fondly at him, tracing the sharp line of the Spy's jaw with his thumb. He sighed.

“Later.”

The Spy took a moment to register what was said. He blinked.

“Pardon? Then what are you going to- _no!”_

The Medic was moving. He was taking him back to the refrigerator.

“I have been working on this procedure for months,” he said gleefully, ignoring the Spy's increasingly louder protests. “I would like to ask you some questions, and there are some tests I would like to run while you are still conscious, of course. Imagine the potential for a brain to be kept alive outside the body, fully functioning and

“ _Bastard!”_ the BLU Spy shouted, snarling viciously as he heard the refrigerator door being opened. “You cannot do this! I will have you killed for this, you despicable liar! Let me out of here this instant!”

“Stay right there,” the Medic said cheerfully, smiling at him in excitement. “I will be right back in a moment.”

The fridge door swung closed, and he was plunged into darkness once more. The Spy continued to scream.

 


End file.
